


we can't help what we are

by misslestrange274



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Lesbian Sex, i am given a perfectly good ship by the show and i want The Other One lol, i guess, i'm so sorry okay??, idk how to tag sorry i just came here to write questionable smut, there isn't even a tag for these two, this is literally the first fic for this ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-05-10 06:51:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14732028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misslestrange274/pseuds/misslestrange274
Summary: "Eve is doomed, because she is attracted to things she cannot have, to mysteries she cannot solve. One day, curiosity will kill the cat, but she can imagine worse ways to go."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am aware that Villaneve is a perfectly good ship, but I have Particular Tastes (TM) and I always want That Other Slightly Questionable Ship. No offence to Villaneve shippers, I support you with my whole heart, but also Consider that Eve could have an affair with her very attractive soft-butch boss? :))) 
> 
> I kinda ignored Carolyn's exhausting dalliance with that Russian dude, I don't want that in my fic haha, and honestly, it felt a bit out of character? Accuse me of heterophobia and cry me a fucking river, what can I say.
> 
> Anyway, here is my trash, I wrote most of it drunk and I regret nothing. Enjoy!

Eve doesn't particularly like Moscow, even though it’s beautiful, has a sort of a post-communistic charm about it, especially the less fancy parts of the city — but she just doesn’t really enjoy being in a country where she doesn't speak the language. It always feels like people are plotting a conspiracy against her or at the very least laughing in her face without her noticing. She feels out of place, like she shouldn’t be here and like Carolyn only brought her with her because she had to, even though logically she knows she’s here to do her job.

Carolyn looks like she’s at home in Moscow. She speaks perfect goddamn Russian, parades around in that ridiculous hat, chats up waiters and knows her way around the city. Eve is actually kind of jealous; she's never felt that at ease anywhere, not even in her hometown, let alone in Russia, and she finds herself trotting behind Carolyn not unlike a lost puppy.

She supposes Carolyn knows what she’s doing — Eve certainly doesn’t, so she doesn’t really say anything. Carolyn has that brusqueness about her which makes Eve kind of reluctant to ask questions, makes her feel stupid for bringing things up. In fact, every time she does, the subject is changed or she is completely ignored. She supposes Carolyn isn’t used to having to answer questions, being who she is and having accomplished what she’d accomplished in life, but the constant secrecy is beginning to get on her nerves a little bit.

She just really wants to do her job (really wants to impress Carolyn, show her she’s not completely useless even though she can’t speaking fluent fucking Russian, and really, really, really wants to get to the bottom of this Villanelle thing), but Carolyn is not letting her do much of it. It's Carolyn who does most of the talking with the local agents during their business dinner, and Eve just kinda sits there and tries to ask a question every now and then, but to little avail.

When the dinner is finally finished after what seems like an eternity of Carolyn and the man-dudes having a grand old time (the whole thing was ridiculous, reminded Eve more of a reunion of old college classmates than anything else), Eve is in a pretty sour mood. She’s pretty sure it’s visible from outer space that she is sulking and she hates herself for it, but she can't really help it.

There is a persistent feeling in her gut that she’s missing something in this whole ordeal, but she forcefully pushes it away and decides to pay it no mind — she’s probably just being a piss-baby about this because she is tired, and this dinner was a complete waste of time, and she feels so extremely useless. Carolyn knows what she’s doing. Carolyn wouldn’t keep things from her, and if she would, it would be because they aren’t relevant to Eve’s investigation, aren’t related to Villanelle.

When Carolyn suggests drinks, Eve is almost relieved. She doesn’t want to sulk by herself in her room, doesn’t want to try to call Niko only for him to ignore her again. What she needs is a bit of alcohol to soothe her nerves and make her fall asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow when she climbs into bed.

“I just need to make a quick phone call,” Carolyn says when they reach the bar. “Sit wherever you want to and get me what you’re having.”

Carolyn leaves and Eve is left standing by the bar like an idiot. Her mood dampens even more for a reason she can’t quite put her finger on.

She manages to order two vodkas, even though she doesn’t normally drink vodka, but she has this irrational urge to prove herself to Carolyn and make her believe she’s the sort of person who does drink vodka. After she clumsily places her order she becomes aware that she’s acting immature, but then there are two glasses of straight vodka in her hands and there’s nothing she can do about it but pick a table in the darkest corner of the room.

She decides not to wait for Carolyn and takes a sip. She grimaces. Not the worst, but definitely not something she’d choose to drink in her spare time.

When Carolyn returns, Eve can’t help but sound accusatory when she speaks. “I see you and those men are old friends.”

Carolyn quirks an eyebrow and gives her a studious look. The intensity of her gaze makes Eve both uncomfortable and unable to look away.

Finally, Carolyn speaks. “Yes, I suppose we are. I’m sorry if you felt left out, I thought it best to handle them myself. The Russians are an odd bunch. They take offence easily and they don’t like negotiating with strangers.” She takes a sip of her vodka and seems unfazed by the burn of it.

Eve suddenly feels stupid for sounding so childish. Carolyn probably knows what she’s doing, and Eve should just let her do her job.

She fidgets with her glass. “I’m sorry, I… didn’t mean to sound petty, but if I’m being honest, I just felt pretty useless sitting there, and the whole dinner felt like a huge waste of time. They didn’t give us anything useful. As soon as the conversation got serious, they got defensive.”

“Oh, we’ll get to them, don’t worry. It’s not my first time dealing with the Russians. They just need a bit of time. Those two have got egos bigger than this room, but they can be persuaded into compliance. You just have to make them believe they are calling the shots, when it is, in fact, the other way around.” Carolyn takes another sip of her vodka. She looks so poised after the entire day, not a single sign of fatigue in her posture, except maybe for the slightest droop around the corners of her eyes.

“You know, I didn’t take you for the vodka type,” she adds.

“I’m not. I mean, I am. I mean, I drink it, you know, sometimes. Not usually on its own, but I do drink it.” Even doesn’t know why she’s suddenly defensive about vodka.

“I just assumed. I would have thought you prefer to spend your evenings drinking hot cocoa and watching whatever boring programme your husband wants to watch, but I guess I have you pegged wrong then.”

“My husband’s not boring,” Eve blurts out before she can stop herself.

“You said it, not I. But now that you’ve brought it up, I don’t really like him very much.” Carolyn tilts her head, twists her glass in her hand. There is an almost imperceptible smirk in the corner of her mouth. Eve notices she’s staring at her lips, but finds it hard to look away. “His mustache is absurd.”

“Excuse me?” Eve hates to admit it, but his mustache really is atrocious. She’s tried to get him to shave it multiple times, but he takes such pride in it, it’s ridiculous — and he’s had it for so long that Eve is certain he would look odd without it now.

“I’d say he got the better part of the deal. You are a bit out of his league.”

Eve doesn’t know how to respond to that so she takes a huge sip of vodka and coughs when she swallows it. Carolyn doesn’t comment, but that ghost of a smirk lingers about her mouth, and Eve finds it rather distracting.

Eve is starting to become pretty tipsy, probably because she has barely touched her dinner, just kind of angrily stabbed it around the plate. She’s tired, her thoughts are hazy and the edges of her vision are getting blurry. She just wants to forget about this whole day, about Niko, about Villanelle, and she has an overwhelming urge to get wasted and ignore her life for a night.

She looks at Carolyn, who seems to be studying her in that intense way that makes Eve shiver. She lifts up her glass and realises it’s empty.

“Up for another drink?” Carolyn shifts in her seat, leans closer, and Eve feels a hot wave wash over her body. She blames it on the vodka.

“Yeah. Sure.” Eve feels like she's out of breath.

Carolyn gets up and walks over to the bar, and Eve can’t help but stare at her as she walks. There is a presence, a charisma around her that Eve noticed on the first day she saw her, and it drew her in, made her want to be liked by Carolyn, made her want Carolyn’s approval. It’s stupid, but Eve can’t help herself. Carolyn is so stoic, so sure of herself, so deliberate, no matter what she does. She is an enigma, and Eve feels attracted to that cold disposition, wants to know more about her because she just can’t help her goddamn self.

Eve is doomed, because she is attracted to things she cannot have, to mysteries she cannot solve. One day, curiosity will kill the cat, but she can imagine worse ways to go. She just wants to _know_ , always wants to put her finger on the stove to make sure it’s really hot.

Carolyn comes back with their drinks. “I thought it best to continue with the vodka theme,” she says as she hands Eve her drink and sits down. “Oh, I'm exhausted! Let’s keep the conversation work-free, shall we? We can return to being professionals in the morning.”

“Fine by me,” says Eve and takes a sip. She is learning that she doesn’t mind the taste of vodka half as much as she thought in the beginning — must be one of those things you get used to.

“So, I was under the impression that you’ve had a fight with your husband?” Carolyn is leaning in again in that overwhelming way that prevents Eve from thinking clearly.

“Yeah. I mean, I feel pretty bad. I sort of punched him in the face. He was being an ass, though.” Eve fidgets with her glass again.

“You punched him in the face?” Carolyn seems terribly amused by the fact. “Trouble in paradise?”

“It was hardly ever a paradise. I mean, I love him, he’s…” Eve struggles to find the word, “…comfortable.”

Every time Eve looks away and then back at Carolyn again, it seems that Carolyn is a millimetre closer. Eve doesn’t really mind.

“I mean, the true love thing, it’s kinda... bullshit, you know?” Eve feels prompted to speak, feels like Carolyn is urging her to say more by staying silent. “No one tells you that the feeling you have at the beginning goes away, and yes, it is replaced by something… different, a familiar bond of sorts, but…” Eve waves her hands exasperatedly, sighs and settles on taking another sip.

“But?”

“But what do you do if that isn’t what you want? Maybe you’re supposed to want it. And maybe I don’t. I mean, I… do want to make peace with him, but what if I want this life more? What if this is more exciting? What if I prefer to drink vodka here with you than drink cocoa with my husband at home?” Words are suddenly coming out of Eve and the only way she can think of to stop herself is to take another big sip. “I mean, I’m drunk, I don’t know. Might just be the vodka.”

Carolyn watches her with that studious gaze again, and Eve can feel the flush in her cheeks and once more she blames it on the goddamn vodka. Carolyn takes a slow, deliberate sip, doesn't take her eyes off of Eve.

“So what you’re saying is that you prefer me over your husband, or have I heard wrong?” That smirk of hers is more prominent now.

Eve lets out a nervous chuckle. “I guess I did say it.” She takes another sip.

“You should be more careful about the things you say. My bones feel alive in this country, I might just do something reckless.” Carolyn chuckles. Eve is fascinated by the sound, wants to make her make it again, wants to put her fingers on that goddamn proverbial stove and get burned.

Eve just laughs nervously once more, certain that Carolyn is joking. “You have a husband too, right?”

“Oh, I’ve been husband-free for a long time. Not really my thing, husbands.

“Oh. I’m sorry, I just assumed, since you have a son and all.”

“No worries. Most people assume. We all know how children are made. Most unfortunate, really.” Carolyn takes a big sip of her vodka and Eve wants to probe some more.

“Any boyfriends then?” Eve tries to sound casual, but it just sounds like there’s something stuck in her throat.

Carolyn looks amused. “Not in recent history.”

“Oh, so you’re not interested… in um, romance? Like, you’re focused on work?”

“For someone so smart, you are really quite daft when it comes to certain things. No offence.” Carolyn tilts her head.

“You think I’m smart?” That appears to be the only part of sentence Eve’s alcohol induced brain decides to focus on.

“I believe I’ve already told you that when I offered you the job. Don’t fish for compliments, it’s unbecoming.”

“I’m not fishing for — I mean, wait, did you just call me daft?”

“Yes, I did, as a matter of fact.”

“Why?” Eve is confused. Somehow Carolyn’s really, really close (when did that happen?) and the dim light highlights her features in a way that makes Eve feel a rush of something like anxiety or anticipation run through her body, but she ignores it and takes another small sip of vodka.

“You’re a smart girl, you’ll figure it out.” Carolyn arches her eyebrow. Eve is never sure how to react to things Carolyn says, so she lets out a strained sounds that resembles a nervous giggle. She’s pretty sure she’s officially drunk.

Suddenly, it dawns on Eve. “Oh, oh! Oh, you’ve been meaning to tell me you’re — I mean, that you like — I mean, yeah, or maybe I got it wrong, if I did, please don’t take offence, it’s fine, I just didn’t know, I just assumed, which was probably dumb of me, but yes, why would you be heterosexual—”

Eve stops, aware that Carolyn is just staring at her, that barely-there smirk always present, and air arounds them seems thick with something Eve cannot name.

Carolyn says nothing and sips her drink. Her aloofness is so unbearable that Eve has the need to do something, _anything_ , to get something other than that pretentious smirk out of her, a word, a confession, because Eve likes to know things and maybe she even likes to get burned.

“Did you sleep with Konstantin?” Eve blurts out.

Carolyn seems disappointed by Eve’s choice of question. “No. And I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

Eve doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know why she’s been so petty this entire evening, doesn’t know what she wants to get out of Carolyn.

“Would you be upset if I had?” Carolyn asks.

“No, of course not,” Eve lies.

“Alright then.” Carolyn gets up from the table. “I've finished my drink, and I see you've finished yours as well.”

Eve looks at her glass and sees it’s empty. She hasn’t noticed.

“So if you don’t have any other ideas for evening entertainment, I suggest we retire to bed. I’m afraid another drink would make your getting up tomorrow a bit hard.”

“My getting up? And you’re what, immune to alcohol?” Eve gets up as well.

Carolyn starts walking towards the elevator. Her every step is deliberate and she doesn't seem drunk at all. “No, I’m not, but I’m better acquainted with vodka than you. And unlike some, I ate my dinner.”

Eve says nothing as they wait for the elevator, not because she doesn't want to, but because she doesn't really know what to say.

The elevator ride is uncomfortable, at least for Eve. Carolyn just _stands_ there, seemingly unbothered by the awkward silence, just _stares_ at her, and Eve can’t take it anymore.

“I don’t want to go to bed,” Eve says.

Carolyn quirks an eyebrow, get a step closer. Somehow that small shift feels monumental. “What _do_ you want to do?”

“I— I don’t know.” Eve can’t seem to look away from Carolyn’s eyes that seem to look right through her, no, _inside_ her, and it’s captivating. Carolyn is in her space, overwhelming, all around Eve, even though she's not even touching her — and it suddenly dawns on her what she might be craving, and she wants it so much that she doesn’t even think, doesn’t even try to question herself because she just needs to know, to see, to touch, and it must be all the vodka she’s had and if it isn’t, well, it’s a good cliché excuse.

The elevator stops. They’ve arrived to their floor. The elevator door opens. Carolyn steps out and Eve follows her. They are standing in the hallway now, unbearably close, but not touching.

“I wouldn’t want to misinterpret things,” Eve says. She _feels_ the tension in the air, her only reassurance that she isn’t making things up, because she isn’t even sure she understands the subtext of the words coming from her own lips.

Carolyn slowly extends her hand, touches her neck, fingers feather light on Eve’s skin and Eve shivers all over. She leans in, painstakingly slowly, and Eve is suddenly aware that anyone could see them here on the hallway, and something like anticipation or fear or excitement courses through her, and then there are lips just below her ear, hot breath that makes her mind go hazy.

“Your problem, Eve, is that you know what you want, but you are irrationally afraid of admitting it to yourself. I just need you to say it, and I swear I will do what you want me to do to you. And tomorrow we’ll forget it ever happened until it happens again.”

There are lips on her earlobe. Eve knows this is a horrible idea, but she’s two giant vodkas in and her life is a mess and at this point she just doesn’t really care. People do horrible things, Villanelle _murders_ people for heaven’s sake, so what if Eve cheats on her husband? It’s hardly consequential, hardly important in the grand scheme of things. She can do what she wants. No one even has to know.

Carolyn backs away, watches her in the darkness of the hallway, waiting, unnervingly still. Eve hears her own heartbeat in the silence.

Eve was quick to realise Carolyn is not the one for casual touches. Not even a hand on the back, or a friendly pat on the arm. In fact, she has never once touched her during the entire evening. Yes, she was close, so close it hurt, and she looms above and around Eve in a way that Eve finds captivating, but she never _touches_. There is just that ever-present tension without resolve makes Eve yearn for Carolyn’s touch, and now that the hot breath on her ear is no longer there, she craves it.

It occurs to her that she’s never touched Carolyn before — she never got the impression that she was allowed to — but now she reaches out, touches the exposed skin of Carolyn’s collarbones, almost expecting it to feel like cold marble, and is surprised to see that her skin is soft, warm, and, as silly as it sounds, surprisingly human.

She looks up to meet Carolyn’s eyes. Carolyn is watching her with an intensity that makes her feel exposed, naked.

“What do you want me to do, Eve?” Carolyn tucks a strand of Eve’s hair behind her ear, brushing her cheek along the way, and Eve leans into her hand. Nimble fingers caress her jaw and Eve closes her eyes.

“I think— I— I want you to touch me.”

Carolyn says nothing, does nothing, and for a fleeting moment shame washes over Eve and she thinks she’d misinterpreted things. What if Carolyn was mocking her, what if—

— but in the next moment Carolyn’s hand is on her back and she feels herself being pulled closer, closer, until she feels the warmth of Carolyn’s body against her, until she feel lips, thin, firm, forbidden, _wonderful_ , kissing her, and Eve is lost.

Eve finds herself pinned against the wall, and there is a thigh pressed between her legs and a mouth on her earlobe again, kissing, licking, biting and Eve can’t help herself, she really can’t, and she moans and she moves her hips, wants to grind against Carolyn’s thigh between her legs, but she’s embarrassed by her own desperation, so she stops.

Carolyn bites her neck and Eve gasps. “Do it. Grind against my thigh.” Carolyn’s breath is hot on Eve’s neck, and something about Carolyn saying it, commanding it, sends a fresh wave of heat through her entire body and she loses all inhibition and obeys. There is something shameless, desperate about the act, which, she hates to admit, turns her on.

Suddenly, Carolyn’s warmth is gone and Eve almost makes an audible sound of protest, but stops herself in time. Carolyn is still looming over her, no longer touching, except for the hands holding Eve’s wrists pinned against the wall.

“Come. We can’t stay here.”

She moves away, gestures for Eve to follow her and walks towards her room at the end of the hallway. Eve walks behind her. The silence, the darkness of the hallway and the absence of Carolyn’s overwhelming presence around her acts like a cold shower, and she begins to second guess this entire thing. Maybe she should say this was a mistake and wish Carolyn goodnight, no hard feelings.

They get to Carolyn’s room, and Carolyn unlocks the door, opens it wide and looks at Eve. Eve wants to say something, wants excuse herself, go to bed and try her best to forget this embarrassing ordeal, maybe take a cold shower and give herself an unsatisfying orgasm to chase this frustrating tension away, but Carolyn is in her space again and Eve is unable to think.

A hand around her waist pulls her in until their bodies are touching, and Carolyn is giving her that look again, the one that makes it impossible for Eve to look away, and somehow they’re kissing again. Eve realises she couldn’t walk away from this even if she wanted to, because she needs to touch, needs to see and feel and know, needs to do all the things she didn’t even know she wanted, because once you step over a line, once you start doing, taking what you want, there is no going back — it’s like a drug.

She finds herself inside Carolyn’s room, pinned against the closed door. Carolyn is kissing her with an intensity that makes Eve’s head spin. She kisses and touches with purpose, and the thigh from before is replaced by a hand between her legs that slips inside her trousers, but not inside her underwear, and Eve moans in Carolyn’s mouth. Carolyn’s touches are deliberate, pointed, and there is something about that steadiness, about the way her fingers move, that makes Eve lose her mind.

Carolyn breaks the kiss, bites a spot below Eve’s ear. “Take off your shirt.”

Eve does as she’s told and she’s left in a black bra, shivering because of the coldness of the room. Carolyn bites her neck, presses her body against Eve’s, moves her fingers over Eve’s now very damp underwear. Eve gasps.

“And your bra.”

Eve arches against Carolyn’s body, loves the the warmth of it against her own exposed skin, and clumsily reaches behind her back to unclasp her bra. She pulls it out from in between their tightly pressed bodies and throws it on the floor.

The hand inside her pants teases, cups, lightly squeezes, and Eve is sure she is could orgasm just from a couple of second of more intense friction, but Carolyn seems not to want to give it to her on purpose. Instead Carolyn lowers her head and kisses and licks her way to Eve’s breasts. She looks Eve in the eyes as she takes one hard nipple in her mouth and swirls her tongue over it. Eve keens. Carolyn sucks and bites and moves her tongue, and the hand that’s not inside of Eve’s pants cups her other breast, squeezes and pinches. Eve is close to unraveling.

Carolyn lifts her head, kisses Eve’s neck again, and Eve whimpers. “What do you want, Eve?”

“What?” Eve can’t think, she is so close to unraveling and Carolyn has barely done anything to her. She doesn’t know what to do with herself. She just wants _more_.

Carolyn bites her ear. “Tell me. Do you want _more_?”

Two fingers brush over Eve’s clit. “Yes, yes,” she breathes out.

“Do you want my fingers inside you? Say it.”

A hot wave runs through Eve’s body. “Yes,” she says, and it sounds like a plea.

“ _Good_.” Carolyn unzips Eve’s pants to give herself more space, and slides her hand inside Eve’s underwear this time. Eve barely has time to draw in a breath before Carolyn slips her fingers inside her with ease and curls them, slowly, deliberately. Eve lets out a loud whimper.

But Carolyn doesn’t move her hand at all. “Move your hips,” she whispers in Eve’s ear.

Eve can feel her cheeks flush. She doesn’t move.

Carolyn slowly moves her fingers inside of Eve, presses against that rough spot, then stops. Eve whimpers and moves her hips just slightly.

“That’s right. Fuck my hand, Eve.” Her voice is firm, breath hot against Eve’s ear.

Eve starts moving her hips and as soon as she does, Carolyn moves her hand, curls her fingers against that sweet, sweet spot, the heel of her palm grazing Eve’s clit. There is something demanding, unrelenting about the way her hand moves that is almost too much to bear — and Eve unravels, sobs as waves of pleasure wash over her. Her knees buckle and if Carolyn wasn’t holding her upright she’d collapse right on the floor.

Carolyn holds her until she can stand on her own again. After what seems like forever, she gathers her bearings. Exhaustion settles over her.

They don’t speak as Eve zips up her pants and struggles with putting on her shirt with clumsy, shaky hands. Carolyn is as stoic as ever, except for maybe an air of smugness around her that Eve decides she will need to do something about some other time, when she’s less tired.

“So, um.” Eve is dressed now, and she's fidgeting with her hands. “This never happened?”

Carolyn arches an eyebrow. “Precisely. Until it happens again. Does tomorrow night work for you?”

“It works.”

“Good.”

Eve feels awkward as she steps out of the room and the door closes behind her. She walks the distance to her room, doesn’t think, doesn’t want to think, doesn’t have the strength for embarrassment or regret.

When she lies in bed, she sees a missed call from Niko. She stares at the bright screen for a couple of seconds before turning her phone off.

Carolyn’s voice rings clear in her ears, something she said before dinner, a casually spoken sentence that got stuck in Eve’s head.

_We can’t help what we are._

Eve turns on the other side, away from the nightstand with her phone on it. She pushes her thoughts away, closes her eyes and wishes for nothing more but dreamless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When did she become this?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, this turned out to be Angsty haha, but apparently it was the only thing I was able to write at this point in time and you will all have to Suffer With Me. 
> 
> I got some wonderful prompts and requests, but I couldn't incorporate them all into this chapter so I ended up combining a request someone made about wanting me to write possessive!Carolyn (which I'm so here for, 10/10 trash for possessive Carolyn) and a sort of a prompt from my friend Mel, who was like, heY WHAt if Eve calls Carolyn after she stabs Villanelle because she has no one else to call?? And I was like, fuck yes, That Speaks To Me and I'm totally stealing it hahah, thanks for the idea Mel, and also thank you for enabling my yelling and sending wonderful encouraging yells back when I sent you little snippets of this chapter!!! 
> 
> Yeah, so here it is! I haven't really planned for this to become a multi chapter thing, and I struggled with this one a little bit, but that was mostly because I was dealing with General Life Shit while writing it. Also, since the show was so adamant about Carolyn's exhausting affair with Konstantin, I decided to at least mention the letters, but in my universe they never touched each other because I just can't imagine Carolyn being even slightly heterosexual lol. I just imagine her as lesbian who was a late bloomer. 
> 
> Anyway, I'll stop boring you with my author's notes! I hope you enjoy this chapter!!

There is blood everywhere and the place is a mess.

Eve is starting to hyperventilate. She has to do something, call someone, go after Villanelle, she has to clean all this blood and glass and…

…but she can’t move. She sinks to her knees. She feels like the walls are closing in on her and she tries to breathe, but her lungs are betraying her. There is noise, but it might be just her own heartbeat in her ears.

She doesn’t know what to do. She is frozen on the floor, shaking and gasping for air. She tries to find something to grab with her hands to ancor herself and finds her phone in her pocket.

Yes, yes, she could call someone! But who should she call? Kenny? He’d be useless! Her mind instantly thinks of Bill, but then she remembers he’s dead and starts shaking even more. Niko? The thought makes her nauseous.

She isn’t aware of pressing the call button, isn’t aware of the phone ringing, isn’t aware she’s even calling anyone until she hears Carolyn’s voice on the other side of the line.

“ _Eve?_ ”

Eve thinks of bailing, because calling Carolyn was a mistake, but then she catches sight of the mess and the glass and the blood (fuck, so much blood) and forces herself to speak.

“I… I stabbed her.” Her voice is hoarse and she feels she's about to cry and she hates that she can’t seem to stop herself.

There is a pause. “ _Is she dead?_ ”

Eve can’t stifle a sob. “No.”

There is silence on the other end of the line, and Eve breaks down. “She disappeared and there is blood everywhere and I can’t move, fuck, I feel like I’m dying and my limbs are numb and I can’t— I can’t—”

She is hyperventilating and sobbing and she is so fucking embarrassed, but she can’t stop.

“ _Eve. Eve, listen to me. Where are you? I’m in Paris now, I can’t help you. You need to breathe and calm down—_ ”

“I’m in Paris.”

“ _What?_ ”

“I’m in fucking Paris, Carolyn!” She’s aware she sounds hysterical, but she doesn’t care. She just wants someone to solve this, she just wants all of this to go away, she wants to be home with Niko living a boring, horrible, safe life in which she isn’t the sort of person capable of stabbing someone. God, she wishes she never left at all.

“ _Where?_ ” Carolyn’s voice is stern.

“In her fucking apartment!” Eve feels nauseous.

“ _Don’t move._ ”

The line goes dead.

* * *

 Eve can’t figure out how long she’s been waiting for Carolyn because it seems like both days and seconds. When Carolyn arrives, Eve is sitting on a clean spot on the floor, chugging wine from the only remaining bottle she hasn’t smashed.

“Eve?” If Eve didn’t know better, she’d say Carolyn sounded worried.

Eve doesn’t look at her. “How did you know where her place is?”

“Is that really the sort of question you want to be asking right now?” Carolyn sighs.

“Yeah.”

“You should be careful, Eve. You want to know things, but once you know something, you can’t undo it. You might do yourself some good if you stopped being so bloody nosey.”

“Why did you hire me?” Eve abruptly turns her head towards Carolyn. “I mean, you’re clearly not one of the good guys! You met with Villanelle! Are you one of The Twelve? Are you working with the Russians? What is your deal, Carolyn, and why the fuck am I even here at all?”

Carolyn scoffs. “There are no good guys, Eve. Things are just things and deeds are just deeds.”

“Oh, bullshit!” Eve stands up and sways a bit. Carolyn’s hand twitches, as if she wants to reach out, but Eve steadies herself on her own, and she curls it into a fist. “Why did you need me to stalk Villanelle if you were working together all along? Why did you visit her in prison?”

“I don’t ‘work’ with Villanelle. _Everything_ is not about her, you know.”

“Then enlighten me, what is it about?” Eve waves her hands in the air. She’s still clenching the bottle in her hand and a couple of drops of wine spill on the floor.

“You are obsessed with that woman. It’s not healthy.” Carolyn crosses her arms.

“And you slept with Konstantin, which by the way, ew! Don’t dodge my questions!”

“Oh, will you let that go already?” There is a note of frustration in Carolyn’s tone. Eve is delighted — she wants to crack that stoic demeanour.

“So you admit you've slept with Konstatin?” Eve takes a step forward, closing the distance between them so that they’re standing inches apart. “Kenny and I found the letters.”

“Sometimes you want people to believe certain things for certain reasons, none of which are your concern. And I am going to have a long talk with Kenny.” Carolyn lifts an eyebrow.

“God, have you ever answered a question straightforwardly in your life?” Eve turns around and groans in frustration. She chugs some more wine and staggers towards the bloody bed. “Fuck. You know what? Forget it. I’m sorry I called you. It was a mistake. I was having a panic attack, I’m better now. If you’ll excuse me, I have to clean this mess.”

Suddenly, she feels a hand on her own, gentle, warm, and she instantly feels all her defences dropping.

“Eve, please, give me that.” Carolyn takes the bottle from Eve’s hand and puts it on the table. Eve doesn’t say anything. Her hand tingles where Carolyn has touched it.

Silence falls over the apartment. It feels heavy. Carolyn just _stands_ there, stoic, silent, as usual. Eve sighs. God, she’s tired.

Eve’s gaze falls on the bloody sheets. She turns back around to look at Carolyn whose face has an unreadable expression on it. Eve opens and closes her mouth, wants to say something, but she can’t articulate what seems to be on the tip of her tongue. She is too tired to think, too tired to explain.

When did she become this?

Carolyn slowly approaches her, every step deliberate. She only stops when they are standing so close they’re almost touching, and there is that feeling bubbling in Eve’s stomach, something like anxiety or anticipation or excitement, or maybe, now she knows, desire.

She is always overwhelmed by Carolyn’s presence, by the way she looms above her, by the way she takes up the space around her —always so _there_ , but somehow always distant— a walking contradiction. It draws her in, makes her want to pick Carolyn apart layer by layer and see what’s underneath. Despite their hotel room trysts, she realises she knows nothing about Carolyn, who always denies her the very thing she came for, even though she might give her everything else — a job, sound advice, an orgasm.

What a horrible, destructive urge — to know. That’s what brought her here in the first place, that’s what made her _stab_ a person. She gets too invested, she fixates on things, on people, and she’s not sure if she wants to fuck them or kill them or what the hell it is that she wants.

She doesn’t recognise herself.

“Why are you here?” Eve finally manages to ask. Yet another question — she can’t help herself.

“Again, none of your concern.” Carolyn’s face reveals no emotion.

“No, I don’t mean in Paris, I mean here, with me. Why didn’t you tell me to get my shit together and stop wasting your time yet?”

They stare at each other for a few moments. Eve notices the expression around Carolyn’s eyes soften just slightly, but it’s so subtle she might have imagined it.

“Why was I the one you called?”

A question for a question — Carolyn never gives a real answer.

Eve sighs. She lowers her gaze and pinches the bridge of her nose. She’s tired of this.

“I fucking stabbed someone.”

Carolyn says nothing, so Eve feels prompted to continue.

“God, I’m… I’m such a mess. What am I even doing? Why am I here? And why, even after all of this, I don’t really wanna go back home? I just wish all of this never happened, I wish that I never started doing whatever the fuck I want because it’s a fucking drug and next thing you know you try to kill someone.” A sob escapes her. “I never should have accepted this job. Bill wouldn’t be dead, I’d still be living with Niko and I’d be happy because I wouldn’t know any better. I never would have met _her_ and you’d just be a stranger I’d force myself to forget.”

Tears are starting to fall down her face and she can do nothing to stop them. She avoids looking at Carolyn, afraid she’ll see mockery or pity in her eyes.

Instead, she feels a hand on her cheek. She tingles all over from the touch. It always surprises her how warm, how human Carolyn is — somehow she still expects her to be marble and ice.

Carolyn caresses Eve’s face with her thumb, wipes the tear on her cheek. Eve leans into her hand. “You are much more than you allow yourself to be.”

“Oh, please, I’m a disaster on two legs.” Eve scoffs.

“I never said you weren’t. You are horribly reckless, you cannot follow simple orders and you have a crush on a serial killer you barely know.”

Eve opens her mouth to say something, but Carolyn puts a finger over her mouth to shush her and Eve is momentarily distracted by the feeling of Carolyn’s finger on her lips.

“There isn’t a single thing you couldn’t do if you set your mind to it. You are also a brilliant agent; nothing goes past you, except, of course, the most obvious things.” There is a short pause. A ghost of a smirk appears around Carolyn’s mouth. “And I am quite fond of your hair.”

She tucks a strand of hair behind Eve’s ear and Eve has a déjà vu of that first evening in the hotel hallway.

“What do you mean? By the most obvious things?” Eve asks quietly.

“Well, I am here, aren’t I? And I haven’t told you to get your shit together and stop wasting my time.” Carolyn raises an eyebrow.

They look at each other. Eve feels like she’s drowning.

“I’m a mess.”

“We’re all a mess, some of us are just good at keeping our dirty laundry in the basket.”

Silence follows. Eve feels Carolyn’s hand that is still on her cheek like a burn.

“Kiss me.” Eve hates the sound of her own voice, needy and desperate and pathetic, but she hasn’t the time to dwell on it because as soon as she speaks the words, there is a hand on her waist that pulls her closer, closer, until she feels the warmth of Carolyn’s body pressed against hers, and then Carolyn’s lips are on her own, and Eve is lost.

They stumble towards the kitchen, not breaking the kiss, stepping on broken glass on their way. Eve bumps into the kitchen counter with her butt and Carolyn helps her up to sit on it. They lock eyes again.

“Are we really gonna fuck in her apartment?”

“Things are only weird if you insist on making them so.” Carolyn tilts her head.

“God, I really wish the idea of having sex in her apartment didn’t turn me on as much as it does.”

Carolyn smirks and leans in, and Eve’s sure her knees would betray her if she was currently standing on the floor.

“We can’t help what we are,” Carolyn whispers, and Eve shivers when she feels the hot breath on her ear.

The sentence has been haunting her since that first night in Russia, and hearing it from Carolyn's mouth again is almost cathartic. It feels like coming together, full circle, like a permission for something _forbidden_ , something _delicious_. It’s a pathetic, shitty excuse for everything she never dared to do whispered in her ear like a dirty secret, like a confession.

Eve wraps her legs around Carolyn’s waist, runs her hands over Carolyn’s back, neck, through her hair, desperately, wantonly.

“I want you,” Eve breaths out between feverish kisses.

Carolyn moves away, but she can’t go very far with Eve’s legs around her waist. There is a distant look in her eyes and Eve shivers from the coldness of it. “Take off your shirt.”

As soon as Eve's shirt is off and discarded carelessly on the counter, Carolyn starts planting agonisingly slow kisses all over her chest. She slides her hands underneath her bra, squeezes, kneads, and Eve lets out a breathy moan. She bites Eve’s ear. Her voice is icy when she speaks. “Tell me, Eve, do you think of Villanelle when I fuck you?”

Eve is somehow not surprised by the question, but she is surprised by her answer, because she finds she is telling the truth. “No. I mean, not that I don’t think about her, it’s just that I don’t when I’m with you.”

Carolyn bites her ear and squeezes her breasts harder, pinches her nipples. Eve hisses. “Say it again.”

“What?” Eve is confused — she can never quite follow Carolyn’s thought process.

“Tell me you want me.”

There is something softer in the tone of her voice and Eve feels a tug somewhere in her chest.

“I want you.”

Carolyn kisses her again, and it’s possessive, greedy, anything but deliberate or measured. It’s like her rigorous self-restraint has finally weakened and all that is left is uninhibited desire. That presence of Carolyn’s that Eve finds so enticing has, Eve realises now, always been carefully contained — but now it demands, it desires, it devours, and Eve can do nothing but give in.

Eve is not really sure at which point her pants and shoes were taken off and thrown aside, but she finds herself only in her underwear, and somehow Carolyn’s head is between her legs. She is half supported by the kitchen counter and half by Carolyn’s arms that are wrapped around her thighs. Up until this point, Carolyn has always pleasured her with her fingers — it seemed appropriate given the nature of their hasty, forbidden nightly trysts — but this feels so much more intimate, and the mere thought of Carolyn’s tongue inside her makes her dizzy with desire.

She inhales sharply when Carolyn bites the inside of her thigh. She licks and kisses both of her thighs, around the hem of her underwear, her pubic bone — purposely never where Eve needs her most. Eve feels like she’s on fire, she trembles and shivers, delicious tingles spread over her entire body. Desire overwhelms her.

“Carolyn—” she breathes out. Carolyn looks up at her from between her thighs and Eve thinks that might be the most erotic sight she’s ever witnessed. “Please, Carolyn, just touch me, just—”

Carolyn plants a slow, deep kiss on Eve’s lower lips over her underwear. Eve lets out a strained sound. Tongue teases and caresses over black cotton.

“Like this?” Carolyn’s look is smug. “Or do you want _more_?”

More, more, Eve always wants more and it’s going to be the end of her.

“Yes, yes, yes.” Eve sounds desperate. 

A lick over her clit, always through her underwear. It’s driving Eve insane. 

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Carolyn, I want you to fuck me with your tongue, please, just fuck me with y—”

Her panties are roughly pulled down and, finally, she feels Carolyn’s tongue on her bare skin. She moans. Carolyn circles around her clit, teases her lips. Her fingers dig into Eve’s thighs, and then she buries her tongue inside her and moves it around. Eve thinks she hears, or rather, feels Carolyn let out a quiet moan, but she can't be completely certain.

Carolyn devours her with reverence, thoroughly, almost religiously, and Eve feels like she's losing her sanity. She makes embarrassing sounds, moves her hips, mumbles Carolyn’s name, and every time Carolyn hears it she digs her fingers deeper into Eve’s thighs and worships her with more gusto, and it’s the most possessive thing Eve has ever witnessed in her life.

“Fuck, Carolyn, I’m—” Eve doesn’t manage to finish her sentence, because the orgasm that crushes over her makes her scream. It lasts for what seems like forever, it washes over her wave after wave, even though it couldn't have lasted more than a couple of seconds.

Carolyn’s touch turns gentler, but she doesn’t move her head away until the last sweet aftershock dies. She stays on her knees between Eve’s legs, gaze pointed to the floor, hands trembling slightly as she releases her grip on Eve’s thighs.

Eve’s breathing is still ragged and she still can’t quite gather her bearings. “God,” she manages to say.

Carolyn is strangely silent as she rises from the floor. Her face is a mask of indifference. Eve watches her as she searches for something and then walks over to the opposite side of the kitchen where she grabs a paper towel, wets it a bit under the pipe and wipes her face.

“Carolyn?”

“I’ll be going now, I have business to attend to.” Carolyn starts walking towards the door. Her voice reveals no emotion, but her walk is slightly more hurried than usual.

“What?” Eve slides down from the counter and follows her. She picks up her knickers from the floor. Her legs are still tingling, but she ignores it and clumsily slips the knickers back on as she walks, careful not to step on the broken glass. “You’re _going_?”

Carolyn reaches the door and stops. Her back is turned to Eve. “Yes. I do hope you are feeling better now. I would advise you to clean this mess before you go.”

Eve touches her arm, turns her around. Carolyn lets her, but she has the strangest look on her face — Eve has never seen her like this before. She looks upset.

“What, you’re just gonna go now? What if I wanted to return the favor? I feel kinda stupid, you know." She attempts a weak smile. "I mean, you never let me touch you.”

She can almost physically see a mask slide over Carolyn's face, and again, the room feels cold.

“Yes, well, as I said, I have business to attend to.”

Eve opens her mouth to say something, reaches out to touch her, but Carolyn interrupts her. “I’m sorry, I must go. Goodbye. Have a safe flight home.”

“But—”

“I’m sorry, Eve.” She pauses, looks like she’s struggling with picking her next words, but when she speaks there is a hitch in her voice. “As you well know, we can’t help... what we are.”

She turns around and leaves. The door slams behind her.

Eve is left standing inside Villanelle’s apartment in her underwear, staring at the closed door like an idiot. She stays there for a couple of minutes, her mind completely blank.

It takes her a while to move. She feels nothing as she slowly picks up her clothes from the kitchen, dresses herself and heads towards her hotel. She doesn’t clean up the mess in Villanelle apartment. She’s too tired, and when she thinks about it, she doesn’t really give a shit.

She lies in the bed in her hotel room that night, fully awake, until it’s time to catch her early morning flight to London. She drinks coffee on the airport, watches people pass by. The morning is grey and fresh, the airport overcrowded with sleepy people and their suitcases. Otherwise the atmosphere would almost be pleasant, but her mind just repeats that same sentence over and over again, like a mantra, like an obsession, like a prayer.

_We can’t help what we are._

She sips of her coffee, then mumbles in her chin.

“It seems that we can’t.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Maybe, just maybe, and just sometimes, people might be something more than what they are."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, I fell headfirst into this trashcan and I regret nothing! I am really enjoying writing these two - this chapter did take me a while, but that was mostly due to me being tired after some Stressful Times(TM). I am currently tipsy as I'm posting this (lol), so please, bear with any mistakes, as I will likely fix them when I wake up tomorrow morning. 
> 
> I would definitely like to write more for these two, and I likely will, but I think I'd like to wait for some more canon content, so I don't know if there will be more chapters to this particular fic. I have a fear that my Carolyn and Eve might start to feel a bit OOC since I am now reaching a bit further beyond what canon has shown us and that isn't my jam - I mostly like to elaborate on what is already canon, and very AU-ish things or things that happen in some imagined headspace of mine start to feel like I'm writing original characters instead of the ones we see on the show, ya feel? And I'm not sure if that's something that I'd want. In any case, I'm not making any promises - I might add another chapter or two to this fic, I might not - what inspired this to become a longer thing (it was meant to be a one-shot) was mostly my ongoing Fiona Shaw obsession (whoops). 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! I left the ending ambiguous on purpose in order to be able to take the story in any direction my heart desires if I continue it, and if I don't continue it, I do feel it's vague enough for the readers to imagine the ending they want. I appreciate all the lovely feedback I got so far very much, it gives me life, and I do hope you find the time to leave some more (like every writer, I live and breathe for comments)! <3

Nothing feels real to Eve for a while after what went down in Villanelle’s apartment in Paris. She is surprised when she realises two weeks have passed already since then, because she feels like she’s floating through space, like she’s waiting for something to happen but nothing ever does — things are just so ordinary and bleak, and every day feels exactly the same as the previous one.

She and Niko are on civil terms now, even though he sleeps on the couch (Eve feels guilty that she actually prefers him there) and don’t really speak unless necessary — they just sort of coexist in the same space. She can sense that he’s offended and waiting for her to apologise and be the one to reach out, and she seriously considers it during the first couple of days, but soon afterwards finds that she doesn’t have a genuine apology to offer him — she feels guilty, but she would do it all again in a heartbeat.

Mostly, she is bored. She is currently unemployed, and while she knows she should be looking for a job, she can’t really convince herself to begin. It’s ridiculous, but she secretly hopes Carolyn will show up at her door and tell her to stop moping about and get back to her job. After a week, she even starts hoping Villanelle will break into her house to forcefully drag her back into the whole drama and make her feel alive again.

But there is no sign of Villanelle, who is probably still recovering from the unfortunate Paris events, and there is certainly no sign of Carolyn. It drives Eve mad, mostly because she can’t figure out what the hell went down between them. Again, she has questions, and again, Carolyn provides no answers. She tries calling her a couple of times, but there is no response. She thinks about leaving her a voice message, but doesn’t really know what to say. After five days she stops calling because there is a thin line between persistent and pathetic. Eve knows when she’s blown off.

It’s the fourteenth day of Eve’s being home, eating junk food in her pyjamas and watching dumb TV shows — she is stuffing her face with popcorn and drinking shitty wine when the doorbell rings. Niko is out playing bridge with some friends, a daily ritual after which he comes home drunk at a late hour and passes out on the couch, and her first though is that he must have forgotten his keys. She sighs, grabs her glass of wine and drags herself towards the door, annoyed by the disturbance.

She opens the door and drops her glass.

“Fuck, shit, fuck!” she curses and jumps away from the spilled wine and the broken glass on the floor. “Jesus!”

Carolyn just stands there looking at her for a couple of seconds. Eve’s heart is pounding like crazy and her brain is frozen and she can’t think of anything to say. She opens and closes her mouth like a fish and tries to form words, but nothing comes out. Finally, Carolyn breaks the silence. “Good evening, Eve.”

Eve almost laughs, because that is exactly what she would have expected Carolyn to say after fucking her in a serial killer’s apartment and then disappearing for two weeks.

“I hope I’m not disturbing.” Her face is the usual marble mask, but there is something cautious about her gaze.

Eve thinks about playing hard to get and telling her to get lost, about counting all the ways in which Carolyn hurt her ego, and even though the option sounds tempting, she dismisses it immediately because who is she kidding — she has been praying for Carolyn to show up at her doorstep for two weeks and the last thing that she wants is to see her go.

“No, I— I— you’re— I mean, you’re not, I mean, um, come in,” Eve stutters out. “Just um, watch out for the glass.”

Carolyn carefully steps around the broken glass and Eve closes the door. Carolyn looks around, seemingly eying the hallway with great interest.

“Just um, go sit in the living room, it’s right there. I’ll just clean this up real quick.”

Carolyn gives her a vague nod and disappears from the hallway.

Eve’s heart is still pounding as she cleans up the glass and the sticky wine on the floor. Then she stands in the kitchen for a while, tries to calm down with breathing exercises, but fails and just decides to face Carolyn like a grown woman and demand something that resembles an explanation.

When she storms into the living room, she finds Carolyn sitting on the couch, stoic as usual. Her coat is draped over the armrest and she looks almost regal, her spine perfectly straight and her legs crossed. She gives Eve a single look, and Eve suddenly forgets everything she intended to say.

Carolyn is silent. She just watches Eve with that penetrative gaze of hers, but she does look like she’s struggling to find words. She raises her hand — the tiniest of movements — she opens her mouth and stays like that for a couple of seconds, only to let her hand fall back onto her leg and squeeze her lips together, again, saying nothing.

“How did you know Niko wouldn’t be home?” Eve asks the first thing that comes to mind.

“I’ve been… aware he plays bridge most nights.”

So she’s been spying on Eve — not that Eve is particularly surprised or particularly minds.

“Why are you here?” Eve goes straight to the point — she can never help herself.

“I came to check on you,” Carolyn says and looks down at her hands. “As, well, your friend.”

“My friend? I wasn’t aware you were my friend. Actually, Carolyn, I have no idea what you are to me, and I also have no idea why you've decided to come to my house tonight after two weeks of silent treatment.” Eve crosses her arms.

“I see.” Carolyn grabs her coat and starts to get up. “I should probably go then.”

She starts to walk towards the door, but Eve blocks her way.

“Wait!” she says and it sounds more frantic than she intended it to. “I mean… I don’t want you to go, I just… don’t understand.”

She touches Carolyn’s arm. “I… I know I’m probably just a fling to you. I mean, you’ve probably met dozens of women like me, who were probably much less trouble, probably slept with all of them, but I’ve never met anyone like you. And it’s probably pathetic, but I feel like we have some sort of a weird connection, and that last time in Villanelle’s apartment was like, the best sex I’ve ever had in my entire life, and I know I’m rambling and you probably want to go but… I guess… what I wanted to say is that I’ve… missed you.”

Carolyn says nothing. Eve looks away, but her hand is still on Carolyn’s arm. “I know you probably think I’m stupid.”

“Eve.” She gently grabs Eve’s chin and lifts her head so they're looking in each other’s eyes. “You are one of the smartest people I know.”

“And I know it doesn’t seem that way but—” she caresses Eve’s face with her thumb— “I feel a lot of things when you are concerned.”

“You do?” Eve asks dumbly. She can’t think — Carolyn's proximity, as always, overwhelms her.

“Let me tell you something, Eve — you can’t feel things in this profession. It is a recipe for disaster. But after some thinking…” she pauses, and the look she gives her makes Eve feel like a warm liquid is spilling from her heart all over her body, “…I thought it unfair to have left without saying anything — knowing things is so very important to you, after all. And I, for once, am able to offer what is hopefully a somewhat satisfactory explanation.”

There is a small pause. Carolyn tries to move her hand away from Eve’s face, but Eve gently lays her own hand atop of Carolyn’s to keep it there and Carolyn doesn’t try to move it again.

“I don’t… leave everything I’m doing when just anyone calls me, but I felt the need to come when you did. I hadn’t even thought about it, I just rushed to see you because you were unwell.” Carolyn pauses — it's as if she finds every word painful to utter. “That, or to put it plainly, you, started to make feel like I’m no longer in control of my actions or emotions, which is why I left so abruptly the last time we saw each other.”

“Well, is that really… so bad?” Eve asks.

“Those are precisely the things that make you stab people.” Carolyn gives her a pointed look. Eve would be lying if she said that doesn’t sting just a bit.

“So why are you really here then?” Eve asks.

“To say goodbye to you properly,” Carolyn says and it sounds final. Eve’s heart sinks.

Silence ensues. Eve leans forward, buries her head in the crook of Carolyn’s neck, and Carolyn strokes her hair. Somehow that simple exchange of tenderness feels incredibly intimate.

“Please don’t go,” Eve says after a while.

She is aware that she sounds pathetic, but she can’t let this go. She can’t spend another day trapped in this house with Niko, bored, lonely, forced to leave everything that she's ever liked about her life behind without a fight. It’s easy for Carolyn to leave! She will just go back to her exciting life and everything will be as it was before! And Eve…

…Eve has nothing.

“Eve…” Carolyn begins, but Eve kisses her neck and Carolyn inhales audibly and doesn’t finish her sentence. Eve runs her hands over Carolyn’s back, over her waist, presses her own body into Carolyn’s.

“Don’t go just yet,” Eve whispers in Carolyn’s ear. Carolyn seems uncertain — she places her hands on Eve’s shoulder’s, not really pushing her away, but it is definitely a defensive gesture.

“I…”

Eve moves away just a bit so she can look at Carolyn’s eyes. “Look at me. Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want this.”

It’s a bold move, because Carolyn might as well lie through her teeth (surely wouldn’t be the first time) and leave for good, but Eve decides to take that risk. She has barely begun to scratch at all the layers of the enigma that is Carolyn, but there are definitely dents in her walls, and Eve prays it’s enough for her to stay, at least for tonight.

They look at each other for a couple of seconds. Eve feels like she’s burning. The only thing she is aware of is Carolyn, Carolyn, Carolyn, that intense look in her eyes, that heat, that magnetic aura that emanates from her, surrounding, enveloping, drawing Eve in to the point of no return.

“Well?” Eve feels out of breath.

Carolyn licks her lips, a movement so subtle it’s barely perceptible, but she says nothing. There is conflict in her gaze.

Eve lightly runs her fingers over the nape of Carolyn’s neck — a ghost of a touch — feels the short hair that begins to grow there, then ventures a bit lower, following her spine, then back up and towards her collarbones — then lower again, to the first button of her shirt. She looks up at Carolyn’s eyes as she unbuttons it.

Carolyn’s chest is rising and falling a bit quicker than usual and her cheeks might be just the tiniest bit pinker than Eve is used to seeing. It’s all extremely subtle, but it’s there.

“Do you think about it?” Eve says, encouraged by Carolyn’s reaction. “About grabbing my hair, telling me exactly what you want me to do, and how you want me to do it? About your thighs around my head, my mouth on y—”

Carolyn interrupts her with a forceful kiss that makes Eve’s head spin, and pins her against the wall next to the door. They kiss like it’s their last time, and it crosses Eve’s mind that it might be, but she pushes the thought away and slips her hands underneath Carolyn’s shirt, feels the warm skin under her palms, and pulls her closer, closer, closer, because nothing ever feels close enough. She grabs Carolyn’s butt and squeezes and Carolyn lets out a grunt that is muffled by the kiss.

Carolyn moves away. She’s breathing heavily and Eve is pretty sure she’s never seen her this obviously disheveled.

“Off with that shirt,” Carolyn says and doesn’t wait for Eve to do it, but grabs it and forcefully pulls it over Eve’s head. She throws it on the floor.

“And this bloody thing,” she mumbles and does the same thing with Eve’s sports bra. She grabs Eve’s breasts, squeezes them and lets out a quiet hum of appreciation before kissing Eve again.

As they kiss, Eve starts unbuttoning Carolyn’s shirt. She is delighted that Carolyn doesn’t stop her, but when she tries to pull the shirt off of her shoulders, Carolyn grabs her wrists and pins them against the wall.

“Don’t be cheeky.”

“ I want to touch you,” Eve says and it almost sounds whiny.

Carolyn smirks. She releases Eve’s wrists. “Get on your knees, then.”

The words send a wave of heat through Eve’s body and she falls down on her knees.

She looks up at Carolyn and kisses her stomach, just above the waistband of her trousers. Carolyn shudders and Eve kisses it again, then pulls the zipper down and places a kiss over the fabric of her underwear. The skin there feels so unbelievably soft even over a layer of clothing, and Eve aches for more.

She pulls the trousers down Carolyn’s legs. Carolyn takes off her shoes and steps out of the trousers, kicking them both aside, and Eve is left with the sight of Carolyn Martens standing above her only in her underwear and an unbuttoned shirt. It makes her feel dizzy.

Carolyn leans against the wall. She looks down at Eve and her gaze is, for once, not ice, but scorching heat.

“Go on then. Touch me,” Carolyn commands and Eve doesn’t need to be told twice. She runs her hands up and down Carolyn’s legs, kisses her thighs, delighted how the soft they feel under her palms, her mouth. Carolyn spreads her legs a bit further apart. Eve runs her tongue over the hem of Carolyn’s underwear, where fabric meets skin, then places a kiss on her clit, the gentlest of touches, and there is a sharp inhale from Carolyn — the sound sends tingles through Eve’s body.

Eve presses her tongue, her lips, her entire mouth over the fabric, feels, traces around her clit with her tongue. She buries her head deeper and Carolyn is forced to part her legs a bit further. Eve teases her, delights in how Carolyn feels under her mouth. Carolyn’s breathing becomes quicker and she lets out a moan so quiet Eve thinks she might have imagined it.

“Take... the knickers off,” Carolyn breathes out. “Now.”

Eve pulls them down and Carolyn steps out of them. Eve doesn't wait for further instructions, but immediately wraps her hands around Carolyn’s hips, squeezes her ass and buries her head back between her thighs. Carolyn lets out a strained sound and lifts one leg over Eve’s shoulder and brings her head closer by pulling on her hair. It's such a wanton gesture, so uncharacteristic for Carolyn, and Eve adores it.

Carolyn tangles her hand in Eve's hair — not even pulling, but seemingly just enjoying touching it — she moves her hips, lets out the tiniest of sounds that drive Eve crazy. It sounds like she’s trying to be quiet but occasionally a little moan escapes her and it’s the most erotic thing Eve’s ever witnessed in her life. Eve gets lost in her, in the scent, in the taste, and she feels like she could stay between her legs forever.

It’s odd to see the usually stoic Carolyn Martens come undone. Eve can't shake off the feeling that she’s desperately trying not to be loud, but as she gets closer to an orgasm, she seems to lose those last bits of composure and she keens and moans and shakes and shudders and tangles her hand more into Eve’s hair and squeezes her thighs around Eve’s head so tightly Eve thinks she’ll suffocate — but then it’s over and Eve can breathe again.

They stay like that for a while, Carolyn breathing heavily and Eve on her knees between her legs. It takes them some time to move.

When Eve finally gets up, she looks at Carolyn, tries to find some sort of an indication of what comes next, but when she finds nothing, she wordlessly leans in and Carolyn wraps her arms around her.

“Are you still leaving?” she asks as Carolyn strokes her hair.

Carolyn says nothing — but she doesn’t say she’s leaving, nor does she make an effort to move.

“Could we sit on the couch or a while?” Eve asks an easier question. She feels Carolyn nod.

They sit on the touch, half-naked, wrapped around each other — it’s almost peaceful. Eve’s face is buried into the crook of Carolyn’s neck and Carolyn plays with Eve’s hair. Eve has things she wants to ask, things she wants to say, but she feels very tired all of a sudden, and doesn't find the strength to speak. Something heavy lingers in the air, but neither of them wants to address it yet. They just sit in the dark living room that is full to the brim with unspoken things.

Eve doesn’t have the faintest idea what happens next — all she knows is that they have a couple more hours left before Niko comes home and that Carolyn is still _here_ — and she hopes and she prays that, maybe, sometimes, people can surprise, people can act the way one least expects them to.

Maybe, just maybe, and just sometimes, people might be something more than what they are.


End file.
